


Herblady

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Drama, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 19:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4072083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="postbody">A maid of Valinor struggles with her fanciful attraction to Feanor, knowing her dreaming is pointless. After a visit from the Prince she ponders the future and when it shall be her time for love. NOT AU Feanormance!</span>
</p><p>
  <span class="postbody">Angst/Romance/Drama</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Herblady

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Brushing rich brown strands behind her ears she straightens from the growing plants and their strong aroma's to stand and enjoy the golden light from one of the sacred and beautiful trees. Being a Noldo she marvels at them simply for their creation and the shining light that issues forth, akin to the light said to come from the sacred Silmaril's, yet the interest in her for all things green and growing adds to her awe. A follower of Yavanna, she is learned in knowledge of herbs, of healing and remedies. Though often considered a strange practise as there was little need for such things in the Blessed Realm she has a strange feeling that maybe one day she may have the chance to test all her skills.

Pushing her strange thoughts of the future aside she bends down and collects her basket of freshly picked herbs and walks softly across the rich earth to her home. The soil barely crumbles beneath her bare feet that move lightly across the earth. Pushing the wooden door open she hears the murmurs of conversation from somewhere inside the house, she cannot detect the deeper tones of her brother and father presumes they must still be at the forges. She sets down her basket upon a smooth marble surface and is walking out of the door to join her mother and sister in their conversation when she sees a figure walking towards the house. Nothing stops the small fluttering feeling she feels inside, no matter how hard she tries to quell it, no matter how she knows it is wrong.

_He loves you not_

She tells herself

_He is above you_

She tries to forget it

_He is a Prince_

She thinks and knows

_He is married_

She hates the thought.

"Healer," the words he speaks are warm, almost as if his fiery spirit is reflected in all he does, though she knows this is nothing…only politeness.

"My lord," she lowers her head respectfully, it is better if she does not look at him anyway.

"As you will know my wife is expecting our firstborn, I have come for herbs that will ease the pain, many have spoke of your skills above others," he says simply, she notices the small smile upon his face and quickly turns to the shelves and cupboards searching for the herbs.

_He chose you above other healers…_  
 _Do not be so foolish, you simply have the most knowledge of childbearing and birthing._  
Like always she quashes her wild dreaming and focuses on the reality of her situation. Dreaming will get her no where.

Handing over the herbs with few words and simple instructions she now wishes for him to be gone, so her legs may feel stable again, so her mind may again be clear. And soon he is gone; a retreating figure along the pathway.

She closes the door shut and leans against the strong wood, she knows she must stop dreaming. Feeling frustrated she walks quickly from the room her mind desperately wondering _When shall it be my turn? When shall there be someone?_  



End file.
